


A Whole New Westeros

by gendryxaryatrash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendryxaryatrash/pseuds/gendryxaryatrash
Summary: For AxGweek prompt Three Wishes - Aladdin AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I've unintentionally got a Disney theme going for AxG this year. Hope you enjoy, promise to update later this week!

“Hot pies! Hot pies!” The baker’s son shouted.

Gendry’s stomach rumbled loudly when he caught sight and smell of the freshly baked wares. Even his mouth watered, but he forced himself to look away. It’d be bad business to steal from someone who considered him a friend, even if Hot Pie could be irritating at times.

Instead, Gendry slipped down an alley way towards the seedier parts of King’s Landing where he knew he could get a bowl o’ brown for what he had in his pockets, which was very little.

It wasn’t that Tobho Mott didn’t pay him well enough for the work he performed, but he spent it all on food for his half brothers and sisters. 

Suddenly, he felt a tug on his pant leg; he turned in knowing exasperation. “Weasel.” The girl had followed him out of the tiny cottage they both shared with the other children. She wasn’t a half sibling but she may as well be since he took care of her all the same. 

“Alright then,” he sighed, tilting his head in the direction he’d been going. He let her take tight hold of his hand and dragged her along behind him, resigning himself to sharing half of his bowl o’ brown with her.

Just as they were passing the Street of Steel, Gendry heard the loud galloping of a large group of horses rounding the corner at a fast pace with no intention of stopping. Just in time to save them both, Gendry managed to fling himself and Weasel into the doorway of a shop.

“Watch where you’re going, filth!” A pug-like tall blonde boy shouted from atop his horse, which he had brought to an abrupt halt while releasing his whip towards the two of them. 

His blood boiling over, Gendry shoved Weasel behind him and managed to grasp the end of the whip with one hand. Though it stung, he barely felt it over the sting of the ugly treatment he was yet again receiving from another highborn. 

“Why don’t you watch your tongue,” Gendry bit back roughly, tugging the whip so hard that the boy almost fell off his horse. Instead the boy released his grip on the whip. Red-faced and screaming, the highborn demanded that his guards arrest the “filth,” but by the time the guards had gotten off their horses, Gendry and Weasel had disappeared through the back of the shop.

***

Arya watched this all occur with a smirk on her face beneath her hooded cloak, which she wore to hide her face. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew what she looked like ever since her father had announced her ready to marry, and marriage proposals had begun flowing into the capital.

Arya eyed the pug-like boy with distaste as he threw a temper tantrum all the way up the street since his guards hadn’t been fast enough to catch the “gutter rats.” This must be Prince Joffrey. What a match that would have been, she thought bitterly, glad she had sneaked away in time to avoid even having to meet the beast.

Her father, she knew, would be unhappy to see her gone, but she consoled herself with the thought that she’d return once her father realized what a monster this suitor was. It was either that or she’d have to set Nymeria on him. This brought a satisfied grin to her face.

Curious about the boy and girl she’d seen assaulted by the prince, Arya retraced their footsteps through the shop and down a long, narrow alleyway. The alleyway ended in another wide street full of merchants and beggars. 

Arya searched the crowd for the bronze bull’s head helmet she’d seen tucked under the boy’s arm and finally spotted the two of them at a stall selling bowls of questionable looking broth of some type. Arya inched her way towards them, inquisitive of the food. She’d never been this far into the city on any of her other secret ventures.

Arya gasped when she nearly tripped over a tiny beggar boy. “I’m sorry,” she started to say but then stopped at the hungry look in his gaunt little face as he gazed at the stall of fresh fruit before them. Her heart sank for him.

“Are you hungry?” She said in as gentle a tone as she could muster. Sansa was far better at being gentle than Arya, so Arya tried to mimic her sister’s tone. 

The little boy nodded fiercely barely looking at this stranger speaking to him. 

Arya reached into her cloak to find the small bag of gold she kept for these discreet ventures while at the same time reaching to grab a pear from the stall. She handed the fruit to the little boy with as sweet a smile as she could muster. The boy looked at her in disbelief and slowly took the pear from her hands. 

“Oy!” The stall merchant shouted roughly, grabbing Arya by the back of her cloak. “You’ve got to pay for that thief!”

This had startled the little boy who sprinted away and disappeared into the crowd.

Although Arya had indeed intended to pay, her immediate reaction was to elbow the merchant in his throat, gut and groin, as Syrio had taught her to do when assailed from behind. This left the merchant wheezing from the ground while Arya broke a loose wooden pole off the corner of the merchant’s stall and pointed it down at the merchant as a warning. This all occurred in a matter of seconds.

“There are much nicer ways to ask for payment,” Arya said in a voice of steel. 

The merchant glared up at her, still clutching at his midsection. Arya rummaged around in her cloak for a moment, then tossed a gold coin down at the merchant, payment worth more than the measly pear taken. Around them, men, women and children guffawed at the sight. A heavyset, tall man being taken down by a slight, short girl. 

Arya realized she was drawing too much attention to herself, twirled the pole in her hand and turned. Just as she started walking away, she heard another “Oy!” then “Behind you!”

She twisted around swiftly holding the pole out for defense only to see the tall, strong boy from before kicking a long dagger out of the meaty hand of the merchant. He’d been about to stab her from behind! All over a stinking pear. 

Before Arya could retaliate, the boy had kicked the dagger out of the man’s reach, then kicked the man in the chin so he fell once more to the floor.

“Guards!” The merchant screeched suddenly. “Guards! Thieves!”

Arya looked around wildly. The last thing she needed was the guards to find her here and bring her back to her father and Prince Joffrey of all people. She heard more shouts and the heavy, metallic marching of Gold Cloaks.

Suddenly, someone was grabbing her hand and pulling her along down the crowded street. She almost reacted violently again as she had against the merchant until she followed the arm grasping her to the handsome face of the boy who’d just saved her. Arya willed her legs to run as fast after him as he was running. Faintly she noticed the tiny little girl from before trailing them, the merchant’s dagger clutched carefully in her small hands.

The boy soon slowed to a jog then to a brisk walking pace but never let go of her hand. Arya was too out of breath then to argue, more from the scare of the guards then the exertion.

“This way!” The boy pulled her strongly but gently down another narrow alleyway. Soon they were away from the crowds and the main streets of King’s Landing.

They all stopped, the boy and the little girl catching their breaths. The boy finally let go of Arya’s hand, but Arya found herself more regretful than relieved. 

“Are you alright?” The boy finally managed.

With surprise, Arya looked up into his blue eyes. They were kind and, looking at her, worried. “I’m alright.” Though still taken aback, she managed a warm smile. 

“You must not be from around here if you thought picking a fight with Big Baelor was a good idea.” The boy wiped sweat from his brow and looked towards the little girl as if to check on her.

“I’m not.” Arya confirmed mysteriously, arranging the hood back up over her face. 

The boy eyed her carefully. “If you’re hiding from something, you’ve got no worries here. No one’ll hear about you from me.”

Arya gazed at the boy once more, curiosity in her stare. It wasn’t that he seemed familiar; it was that she wished he was, even though she’d only just met him.

He faltered under her gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m Gendry, though, and this,” he gestured toward the silent little girl who was taking a bite out of a pear she must have taken from the merchant’s stall during the scuffle, “is Weasel.”

Arya smiled down now at the little girl. “I’m Ar-...” she stopped herself in time. “Arry,” she corrected. 

Gendry’s eyebrows rose skeptically but he smiled nonetheless. Then he was fussing over the little girl Weasel. “You took Big Baelor’s dagger?” He scolded softly, slipping the unsheathed dagger carefully out of the little girl’s hand. The girl only shrugged up at him, as bites of juicy pear filled her tiny cheeks to the brim. The furrow in the boy’s brow smoothed over into a smile when she offered him another pear she’d hidden in a pocket. 

“Thank you,” he pinched her nose and the girl let out the slightest giggle.

Gendry stood up straight once more, wrapping the dagger with a leather cloth and slipping it into his own cloak. He wiped the pear down on a clean portion of his tunic but before he could take a bite from it, he was offering it to Arya. 

She was too surprised to refuse even though she knew his face had hungry written all over it, and instead took the fruit with a word of thanks and bit into it. Having refused breakfast after being told she was to see Joffrey later, Arya didn’t realize how hungry she’d actually been. She scarfed half the pear down before realizing Gendry and Weasel were staring at her. 

“Sorry,” she said through a mouthful, wiping pear off her chin. 

She offered the remaining half of the pear back to Gendry. It was his turn to be surprised. “Are you sure?” He asked, already reaching for it. 

She nodded, swallowing. “It’s really good, try it.”

She wandered down the alley next to Gendry and Weasel as they walked seemingly knowing where they were going. 

“You know how to fight.” Gendry said her way through a mouthful of pear. It wasn’t a question.

Arya grinned when she saw he looked impressed rather than bothered as many of her suitors had so far when they realized she might be more capable with a weapon than them. “It comes in handy.” She confirmed mysteriously once more. 

“This way.” Instead of taking her hand this time, Gendry put his hand on her back and gently guided her after Weasel into the doorway of a small cottage right off the narrow alleyway. 

Arya was surprised to see the one-bedroom home filled with sleeping children, some smaller than Weasel, some older. She looked questioningly at Gendry as Weasel crawled into a tiny cot with a black-haired girl who must be Gendry’s age. 

Gendry wandered to Arya’s side and leaned over so his mouth was tickling the hair that rested near her ear. “That’s Bella.” He gestured to the black-haired girl, then while pointing at each child, he listed off their names, “Mya. Edric. Barra.” There were 10 altogether including Gendry. Arya’s eyes widened more as he called off each name. 

He gestured then to a stairway behind them, outside. This time he did take her hand again as he led her out and up until they came out onto the rooftop of the building passing entrances to other one-room homes filled with hungry looks and empty bellies. 

Arya stifled a gasp at the view. It wasn’t what she normally saw from her chambers high in a tower in the Red Keep. Rather the opposite. She saw the Red Keep outlined against the twilight sky, as majestic and oppressive as usual. And for the first time in her short life, she saw it from the eyes of someone like Gendry or Weasel.

Without taking her eyes off the castle and with the sad feeling these thoughts gave her, she asked. “Are any of them yours?”

Instead of watching the castle, he was watching her. Intently. He shook his head softly. “No. They’re all my father’s.”

“Who’s your father?” She asked, finally tearing her eyes away from the castle to gaze at him once more.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said in a sure tone, but there was bitterness underneath.

“You take care of them all.” Arya couldn’t help the incredulity and slight awe that crept into her voice. 

Gendry twitched, finally dropping his eyes away from her gaze. “As best as I can. I couldn’t do it without Bella or Mya. We all use what we’re best at to get by. For the little ones.”

Arya’s eyes traveled Gendry’s form. He had large muscles and large, well-worked hands. He seemed to guess her question before she could voice it. “I’m a smith.” He said. “I work for Tobho Mott.”

“Oh!” She voiced in recognition. “He made-.” She stopped herself, closing her eyes at her own foolishness. Yes, he’d made the sword she used to practice dueling with Syrio, but telling Gendry would give it away. She opened her eyes to see him studying her cautiously.

“Thought you weren’t from around here.” But the tone wasn’t accusatory, only curious.

Arya’s eyes found the castle once more and her shoulders finally relaxed. She pulled the hood down from around her head. He raised an eyebrow but there was still no recognition.

“I’m Arya, of House Stark.” She admitted. She’d never admitted it before to anyone outside the castle walls who didn’t already know. But she knew somehow that she could trust Gendry like she could trust almost no one else.

Gendry took a step backwards, startled. “You- you’re a highborn, a princess.” He dropped to one knee. “I’m sorry, your Grace. I did not know it was you.”

Arya groaned in frustration, stamped one foot then lunged down at Gendry and struggled to raise him back up to his feet to no avail. She might be fast, but he was strong. “Do not call me that!” She stamped another foot. He stared at her in even more surprise. “Just get back up, now!” 

The corner of Gendry’s mouth twitched, as he hopped back to his feet. “You certainly like giving orders though, but, of course, your Grace,” and he gave a mocking half bow. 

Arya stamped her foot again and shoved him. “Stop calling me that!”

This time he couldn’t help his laughter as he said, “At once, your Grace,” pausing between the words and the title. 

Arya huffed impatiently and lunged to push him again, but this time he was ready. He took her wrists in his hands and pulled her backwards with him as he tumbled to the roof floor. 

“Quite sorry, your-.” Before he could finish the phrase, she was wrestling with him, and they were both rolling around the roof haphazardly, Gendry now tickling the girl, and her attempting to and failing at harming him with her closed fists. 

***

They finally sat up only a foot apart, both breathless, Gendry with laughter and Arya with indignation. Arya’s cloak had torn at the shoulder from the scuffle, and they were both covered in dirt. “Now look what you’ve done.” She scolded, but from her tone, he could tell she too was holding back laughter. 

“What are you doing down here?” Gendry finally managed. He saw her glance guiltily at the castle then back at her feet.

She muttered something he didn’t hear, so he scooted closer, “What?”

“They’re making me get married.” She said much louder than before.

The smile fell from Gendry’s face as he remembered the news Bella had been going on about the king marrying his youngest daughter to one of these suitors coming to King’s Landing seeking her hand. Of course he’d only known her all of an hour, but the thought of this girl being handed off to that pug-faced highborn on the Street of Steel made Gendry clench his fists. 

“You running off?” He asked.

Arya gazed at him glumly, dropping her hands into her lap. “Only for the day.” She admitted. 

“Then what?” He couldn’t help but ask, and since she seemed willing to trust him... Somehow he wanted to help but knew he couldn’t.

She was glaring now openly, but not at him - at the castle. “I’m open to suggestions,” she muttered. 

He was only joking when he said, “You could hold a tourney and challenge the last one standing yourself, but they can only marry you if they win.” He didn’t know where the thought had come from, but he’d remember hearing something about tourneys and weddings at a very young age.

When Arya was silent, he looked at her to realize she was staring at him as if he was a genius. “What?” He stopped, realizing she thought he’d been serious. “Look, I was only joking.”

But she interrupted him. “No, shut up, that’s a wonderful idea. No one can beat me. I’ll be like the Knight of the Smiling Tree.” 

The name of the tale sounded familiar but Gendry hadn’t grown up with a Maester like her so he only knew she must be referring to one of the many mystery knights throughout the history of their kingdom. “You can joust?” He didn’t mean to sound incredulous, but he knew it took strength and usually admirable size to win that sort of fight.

Arya was barely listening. “No, not really, not as well as I can duel, so that’s what I’ll turn it into. I can beat any man one-on-one.”

Gendry’s brow furrowed again doubtfully. She glared at him. “Want to try me?” She asked, but he held up his hands defensively. 

Suddenly she was smiling again, leaping to her feet and helping him to his. She wiped her hands together to get rid of the dust from the roof floor. “You’re a genius, Gendry, thank you!” And before he could prepare himself she’d launched herself at him in a hug. 

Knowing who she was and how much trouble he could get in for touching her, his arms still curled around her willingly. But as she pulled back from the embrace a moment later, her lips brushed his cheek, and they both froze. Only inches apart, their eyes met and Arya was leaning forward again, only in the wrong direction for a hug. 

Gendry meant to stop her before their lips met but lost the motivation once she was kissing him. Instead, his left arm tightened around her once more as he brought his right hand up to cup her face. Both her hands were tangled in his hair. Gendry finally tore away and they stared at each other, both with guilt and want. Arya took a step backwards, her hand trailing down Gendry’s shoulder and arm to his hand. Their fingers intertwined for one moment as they stared at each other uncertainly.

“I have to go,” Arya said suddenly. He felt her squeeze his hand once, then turned and fled down the stairs. 

By the time Gendry had gathered his senses to follow her down, she’d disappeared completely. In a daze, Gendry wandered back into the one little room he shared with his siblings. Bella was sitting up, stroking a sleeping Weasel’s hair. She eyed him furtively as he sat at their one small table and rested his head in his hands as if in desperation. 

“What’s wrong?” Bella whispered.

“Oh nothing,” Gendry responded drily, “but the King’s probably going to take my head.”

***

Back at the castle, Petyr Baelish, better known around the realm as Littlefinger, was scheming and plotting as usual. And as usual, it was the throne he was scheming and plotting for. Just as when he’d killed Robert Baratheon, leaving no heirs to the throne; only that hadn’t turned out quite as Baelish would have hoped when the honorable Ned Stark swept in and took his best friend’s place at his best friend’s deathly bequest. 

Littlefinger’s eyes roved the page. No, that hadn’t worked out at all. What he needed now was just a little bit of magic, and it was all here in this scroll...all that he needed to find it. 

“King’s blood.” He murmured to himself. He needed king’s blood. And once he heard back from his little spies, he would know exactly where to find it. 

A scuttling in the corner caught his attention as the floorboard shifted to reveal a little beggar boy with hunger in his eyes and a pear clutched tightly in one hand. Just in time, Littlefinger thought. The boy delivered his whisperings to Baelish and departed as quietly as he had come. 

Littlefinger set to work immediately, plotting out the route he would need to take later in the night. One word echoed in his mind over and over as he worked. Gendry. The bastard son of the late Robert Baratheon. And exactly the person he needed to set this particular plot in motion. He would not fail again.


	2. Chapter 2

Gendry huddled as close to their tiny fire pit as he could without burning himself. He always volunteered himself to take the floor as much as Mya and Edric fought him for it, knowing how hard he worked. And this one scrap of blanket was hardly enough to keep him warm on its own. 

Because he couldn’t sleep, Gendry found himself thinking back on the girl over and over again. Not just a girl. A princess. The princess. Princess Arya Stark. Every time he thought about her, a small smile took over his features and he had to fight it back, but he lost every time. She was insane. Either that or brilliant. 

He wondered if he would have approached her in the marketplace earlier if he’d known who she was or if he would have been too intimidated. No, he thought, he definitely would have. Princess or not, she’d needed the help. He was glad he had. He was glad he’d met her. 

Even if she was destined to marry some pug-faced little creep. The thought bothered him even more than it had earlier. Especially after their kiss. The thought of marrying her himself hadn’t really crossed his mind, because he knew it was more than impossible, but the thought of wishing he could certainly had crossed his mind several times. 

The flit of a shadow in the doorway brought Gendry back to his senses. He leapt to his feet swiftly, reaching for the dagger Weasel had stolen from the merchant earlier. For one mad moment, though, he thought, hoped really, she might have come back. Instead, he felt the cold steel of another, much more deadly dagger at his throat. Gendry swallowed angrily, mostly angry at himself for letting his guard down. The shadow behind him gestured toward the doorway and Gendry, worried more now for the safety of his siblings, let himself be guided out into the street silently. 

“Good evening, friend,” a slippery voice rasped at him, though the dagger remained where it was.

“If we’re friends, what’s the dagger for?” Gendry responded roughly but quietly.

“I wanted to make sure you’re my friend as much as I’m yours.”

Gendry wanted to shake his head, but the point of the dagger seemed too sharp to move near. Instead he cut to the chase. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“As to who I am, there’s no need for all that,” the voice rasped. “What I want is much more important.”

Gendry waited silently for this riddle-speaker to get on with it.

“Follow me and help me recover an artifact that will help me achieve my heart’s desire. Your own heart’s desire is at hand if you do as I say.”

Gendry’s interest peaked. It was almost as if this creepy stranger had been able to hear his thoughts just before breaking into his home. “Why me?” He said instead.

“We can’t help who our fathers are,” the voice rasped mysteriously, as he began leading Gendry to a set of horses down the path, “but you can help me.”

***

A large sliver of bright morning light shone across Ned’s face suddenly, abruptly waking him from a deep sleep. 

“Father!” It was, of course, his youngest daughter and her urgent tone made him sit up immediately.

“What is it, child?” Ned asked, but he relaxed when he saw she was smiling. He frowned. “Where were you last night, little one? You were supposed to receive Prince Joffrey at dinner.”

Arya groaned. “Never mind that now.” She huffed. “Listen, I’ll marry one of these suitors.” She told him almost proudly.

He stared at her in surprise. “But...?” He prompted, knowing there was more to it than that.

Arya smiled wolfishly as he knew she would. “No buts about it. They just have to win my hand in a tourney.”

Ned was almost relieved. If that was all... But the sparkle in his daughter’s eye was more familiar to him than his own face. “And..?” He prompted gently again.

“They have to win the final duel...” She said almost with finality, but still he knew there to be more. “Against me.” She admitted finally.

“Arya.” He said in a tired voice falling back to his mattress.

She leaned against the bed. “Those are the terms, Father. Take them or leave them.”

He covered his face to hide his smile, but when he spoke he knew she could hear he was amused. “In what kingdom does a king’s daughter order him about?”

He felt his daughter place a quick kiss upon his forehead and heard her skip out of the room, saying, “One in which you make me marry.”

There would be more arguments on the matter to be sure, but for now, Ned just wanted to rest, tired already from how the day was starting.

***

Gendry wiped the sweat from his brow as he trekked on and on through the cave, happy only to be alive. When the skinny, goatee’d man he’d never seen before had pulled his dagger out once more outside the cave, Gendry had thought he was about to become a sacrifice. Instead, as the skinny man’s guard held him down, the man had only pricked Gendry’s wrist with the dagger. The drop of blood that then adorned the dagger had been spread on the blank rock wall in front of them. That wall had promptly disappeared and Gendry had been shoved through it. When he’d turned to escape, the wall had reappeared. 

“The lamp!” The skinny man’s last words at him before the wall had disappeared. Their whole journey, that was all the skinny man had said. 

“The lamp. The lamp.” Gendry muttered to himself bitterly, angry at himself for being forced into a midnight journey to some closed off cave in the middle of who knew Westeros. But after the skinny man had threatened his siblings, Gendry had not had a choice. Even if he got nothing else out of this venture, even if he died, at least, hopefully, the rest of them were safe. 

So far, Gendry had been walking through the cave walkways for what felt like hours, with the one small lantern the skinny man’s guard had shoved into his hand just before pushing him into the cave. And so far, Gendry had seen nothing. Nothing but rock wall and dirt floor. There seemed to be no exit back to where they’d shoved him through from, so there appeared to be no other way out except forward. Gendry cursed at himself once more. If only he’d made himself that hammer he kept promising he’d make himself, no one would take advantage of him and his family like this anymore. But there was always work and more work to be done at Tobho’s and there was never the time or supplies.

Gendry still didn’t understand what he was doing here. All he knew was the skinny man was powerful and he wanted some stupid lamp from this cave that would give him his heart’s desire. Gendry might get to live, and maybe he’d get something else. 

“Stupid, stupid.” Gendry whispered to himself, deciding to stop talking once his voice was echoed back at himself. 

An echo? Gendry stopped. There had been no echo before. He must be approaching the larger, open cavern the skinny man had mentioned. Gendry started walking again but more slowly this time, holding the lamp out in front of him.

Sure enough, he saw a sliver of light far ahead. He lowered the lantern as he approached it and suddenly to his left was a large cavern full of sunlight from a break in the ceiling of the rock far, far above. But more than that, the room was full of gold, more gold than even Gendry could have ever imagined. Gendry rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was seeing things. But he knew this was real, as he walked further into the room, his toe brushing a pile of gold coins that lay scattered near the cave’s entrance. 

The sight took Gendry’s breath away only because this was enough gold not only to keep each of his siblings and himself fed for the rest of their lives but also because it was enough to keep the whole kingdom fed likely. But it was his siblings he had to think about. So instead of even thinking about even one piece of gold, Gendry searched the golden cavern for one thing: the lamp.

And when his eyes lighted upon it, he was surprised. It was the dingiest looking thing in the whole cavern. Made out of bronze rather than gold and sitting upon a dusty pillow in the corner of the caver, almost as if an afterthought, as if someone had forgotten it here accidentally. Gendry approached it carefully. He picked it up gingerly with two fingers and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He waited for something terrible to happen, but nothing did, so he started on back towards where he’d come from, figuring there’d be a way out now that he had what he had come for.

But the thoughts of his siblings again stopped him short once more at the cave entrance. Even one handful of these coins would get them on their feet again, the way they had been before their unknown benefactor had died. They could get a true home, with a bed for each of them. Bella could stop working in brothels. Mya could stop hauling cargo on mules. Fuck the skinny man, Gendry thought, and he stooped to carefully scoop up enough coins in one hand so as to accomplish those goals. 

But the second the gold clinked to the bottom of his coat pocket, the whole cave began to rumble and shake, as if the world was ending. Chunks of rock began to fall from above, one so large it almost crushed Gendry. Gendry leapt towards the entrance and exit to the cave, but he was too late. So many chunks of rock had fallen that his exit was completely barred. All he could do was wait to be crushed. 

Instead, Gendry, knowing it would hurt, cozied up along the edge of the barrier keeping him from his exit, scraping skin against rock. He knew there was nowhere else for rocks to fall from above where he was, but if he stood even an inch further from where he was he would be crushed.

Hoping and praying, Gendry waited for what felt like an eternity for the shaking and trembling of the earth to subside. Finally, only pebbles fell here and there from above, and Gendry extricated himself painfully from his crouched position against the rocky barrier, inspecting cuts, scrapes and bruises along his skin.

“Well,” he said to himself, his voice echoing, “trapped in a cave for the rest of my life with more gold than I could spend in a lifetime and nowhere to spend it.” He wanted to laugh. But thinking about his siblings, he wanted to cry. He’d failed them. And all in the hope of saving them with a lousy handful of gold. What kind of god could be that selfish? 

Bitterly and in anger, Gendry withdrew every last piece of gold from his pocket and tossed it at the empty cavern. “You need it more than me.” He told the empty room sarcastically. 

The lamp in his pocket bounced against his leg, and he grew angrier. “All for this stupid thing,” and he tore the lamp out of his pocket and tried to throw it but it stuck to his hand almost as if by magic. Suddenly the lamp warmed up, not so much as to burn him, but enough for it to be noticeable. Gendry was truly scared now, he shook his hand around trying to loosen the lamp, but it began shaking and suddenly did fall from his grip. He fell backwards against the rock barrier again and watched as the lamp fell to the floor where it shook. Smoke started to come out of the end of it. Gendry could only watch in fear and trepidation. 

A shadowy red form spilled out of the end of the lamp from where the smoke had been, a flash of fire and then...

“Who are you?” Gendry sputtered.

The smoky red figure had transformed into a red-headed man who was now yawning and stretching his arms. He glanced curiously at Gendry and rolled his eyes. “Now, now, I don’t have all day for this. You woke me from my beauty sleep. You know the deal. Three wishes and three wishes only. But I can’t bloody bring the dead back to life; trust me, you wouldn’t want me to. I can’t make your whore fall in love with you. And I can’t-.” The man paused, his right index finger resting on his left middle finger. “Well, I can’t remember the last one, but just try not making them stupid wishes and we can get on with it and I can go back to sleep.”

The man looked down impatiently at Gendry where he was still sprawled against the rock in disbelief. 

Heart’s desire, the skinny man had said. But...this was just a man, in the costume of a red priest from Asshai. There was no such thing as magic, or so Gendry had been led to believe all his life. 

The man crossed his arms and rolled his eyes down at Gendry once again. “You’re trying to tell me you found your way all the way here into this remote cave and you didn’t know you were activating a genie?” The man started to inspect his fingernails as if he couldn’t be more bored. “That’s a first, I’ll tell you.”

“A genie?” Gendry sputtered, finally managing to sit up.

“A genie?” The man mocked him with crossed-eyes, bending over so he was at face level with Gendry. He smacked Gendry softly over the side of his head. “Get on with it then!”

“I didn’t-...” Gendry trailed off, looking all around for an exit. Even if magic was real, he knew one thing about it, and that was that you didn’t mess with it.

The man looked amused now. “Scared of me, are you?” Suddenly a flaming sword appeared in the man’s hand and he was hacking and slashing in Gendry’s direction without actually trying to hit him, all while laughing maniacally. “You should be!” 

Gendry backed away, half scared, half amused, but all the time wishing for a way out. The sword had disappeared once more and the man was now rolling around on the ground laughing at his own behavior. 

Gendry was annoyed now. He approached the man, looked down at him and crossed his arms. “Look, let’s start over. I don’t know what’s going on or who-...what you are. All I know is some weasel-faced prick brought me here to fetch that lamp you were sleeping in and suddenly the cave came down around me, and now we’re both stuck.” Gendry thought he sounded impressive, but the man was still looking up at him in childish amusement.

“You’re stuck.” The man shot back, sitting up and inspecting his fingernails again. “I’ve got my home right here,” he patted the little bronze lamp next to him. “And you’re only stuck because you tried taking what wasn’t yours.”

“I-.” But from the thoughtful look on the red-haired man’s face, Gendry stopped, knowing he couldn’t deny it. 

Finally the man looked like he had some sympathy for Gendry. He stood up and inspected the raggedy clothes Gendry wore and the hungry look in his eyes. “You’re telling me you didn’t know you were fetching a genie’s lamp when you came in here.”

Gendry shook his head. 

“And you didn’t come here searching for treasures and gold?”

“No,” Gendry said, frustrated now. “I only came because the skinny man threatened my family. I was to fetch him the lamp and he wouldn’t kill them, or me.”

The man studied him thoughtfully, then reached a hand out. “Thoros of Myr.” He said as way of introduction finally.

Gendry figured if he was stuck in this cave forever, he only had one possible friend left so he might as well be friendly. He took Thoros’ hand and shook it firmly. “Gendry.”

The man waited for a surname. Gendry turned pink and muttered only “Waters.”

Thoros smiled and twirled around and began pacing. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a soft spot for men like you.” Gendry didn’t inquire as to what he meant. “Also lucky for you, you rubbed the lamp. Unknowingly maybe, but all the same, which means you’ve got the right to three...” At this, he held up three fingers. “Three wishes from me. Whatever your heart’s desire.”

Those words again. The same as the skinny man, and Gendry suddenly allowed himself to hope as he never had from the first time he realized what being an orphan bastard meant in this world. 

“You mean...” His throat was dry and the words came out squeaky, but he didn’t care. “Anything I want?”

Thoros nodded, but he was studying Gendry’s face carefully.

In his own mind, Gendry’s brain was working furiously. He wasn’t thinking about riches. He wasn’t thinking about food. Or fame. Or glory. All he thought about was the faces of the people he cared about. Weasel. Bella. Mya. Edric. Barra. The rest of them. And the face of the girl he’d only met the day before. Arya. Of House Stark. And, with the wit he had, and the short amount of time he’d had to think about it, he could think of only one solution that might save them all. And he didn’t want it for the sake of it itself; he wanted it for the sake of them. 

“Can you-...” Gendry started to ask but that was when he noticed the fetters around Thoros’ wrist. “Are you-...I thought you were a genie.”

Thoros followed Gendry’s gaze to the fetters before shoving his hands into his pockets. “I am, boy. And what are you?” He eyed Gendry warily again.

“A smith.” Gendry said firmly, then without pause, “Are you a slave to the lamp or something?”

“Never mind that, boy, what’s your first wish or I’m going back to sleep.”

Gendry took a deep breath. “I wish to be a prince.”

Thoros lifted both hands and pointed them toward Gendry. There was a look almost of disappointment on his face, but before Gendry could say anything in his own defense, he’d been swept away in a wave of red-tinted magic.

***

Arya blew a wisp of hair out of the way of her eyes in boredom. Joffrey, the pug-faced prince, was going on at length about his new crossbow while Ned Dayne and Aegon Targaryen chatted excitedly about Valyrian steel, a conversation which wouldn’t have bored her but for the men having it. The only one of the lot she liked was Quentynn Martell, but only because he’d understood and accepted her rejection where the others all thought it was just part of the challenge against each other for her hand.

It was to Quentyn she looked when she rolled her eyes at the rest of them. They shared a secret grin that gained suspicious stares from the other princes, all of whom couldn’t understand why Arya had taken to Quentyn more than to the rest of them, as they had argued he was the weakest, least handsome of them all. 

Without deigning to respond to any of them, Arya internally disagreed. She thought that after all Quentyn had had to put up with throughout his short life, he was the strongest of the bunch. And with his dark hair and square jaw, she certainly thought him more handsome than the rest, even if he was stockier and shorter. He was the only one of the bunch she might have considered marrying, if marriage was a thing she’d actually contemplated. But she hadn’t. And she wouldn’t. 

Besides, the only person she seriously thought about when considering even the idea of marriage was that tall, black-haired smith she’d shared a secret kiss with the night before. But since that was never going to happen...

She was interrupted from her thoughts by the loud sound of a trumpet from outside. It was curiosity and boredom more than anything that drove her to her feet and the hall’s balcony. She was so out of breath at the sight that she couldn’t even gasp.

In the distance, in the outline of the setting sun, she saw something she’d only ever dreamed of seeing: a dragon. Flying directly towards the castle. With a rider on its back. Distantly, she saw a whole army marching towards the city below the dragon, all in the colors of black and gold. 

A serving girl ran into the dining hall, out of breath and red in the face. “My princess,” she gasped, holding out a scroll with her father’s waxy direwolf stamped onto the seal. 

Ignoring her suitors, Arya’s eyes shot through the words on the page, and she frowned. She’d thought she was in for more excitement. But it was just another suitor. Still, he had, of all things, a dragon. Beasts that hadn’t been seen in the Seven Kingdoms for a century now. It was this reason only that brought her to trek the tower stairs to the courtyard where her father and her new suitor (and his dragon) would be waiting for her. Wordlessly, she handed the scroll to Quentyn and made her way down the stairs.


End file.
